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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28483104">Back's To These Ropes</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadyBunnie/pseuds/ShadyBunnie'>ShadyBunnie</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Eminem (Musician)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst and Feels, Detroit, Domestic Violence, Eminem - Freeform, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Love/Hate, Other, Poverty, Rags to Riches, Rap Music, Romance, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Trauma, Triggers, Unrequited Love, butnotreally, cuzilovethatshit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 15:42:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,477</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28483104</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadyBunnie/pseuds/ShadyBunnie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Against everything in her, Maya Arnold returns to Detroit to attend her good friend's funeral. It was only supposed to be a sleep and a wake up and she was out of there, back to New York where her new life was, her much better life -- but what happens when she runs into a certain blond haired someone and sees how much he's hurting?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I sighed looking out the plane window at the cloudy sky as we descended into Detroit International Airport. I had never intended to come back to this city, and as it stood, I had kept that promise for nearly 10 years.</p><p>Until now.</p><p>"Passengers, please prepare for landing. At this time we will ask you to turn off all electronics and put trays away, and make sure your seat in the upright position. Our steward is coming by now to pick up any trash you may have lying around." The blonde stewardess announced over the speakers.</p><p>As I did as she instructed, my seat companion, an African-American guy around my age grumbled, lifting his Beats and for a second I could hear what he was listening to. Superman by Eminem rang out, right around when the feminine moans came, and then his voice whispered 'You know I love you baby...You know I want you too...' It was just a song. I knew that, but it was like he was still here, haunting me. It was bad enough when he blew up and I saw him everywhere I went, but that was when I was away from the Detroit. Now that I was back, and would likely run into him soon despite my best efforts, it hit differently. Too close to home.</p><p>"Yo, you got any trash?" My seat mate asked. I glanced up and saw he, along with the steward holding a large clear plastic bag were looking at me expectantly, and I realized it was probably not the first time I'd been asked this question. "Um, yeah. Right here, sorry." I handed it over.</p><p>The steward accepted it moving on, and I turned back to look out the window. We'd descended that little bit more enough for me to see the buildings clearly now. Nothing had really changed much, the downtown and its shiny tall buildings looked the same, much smaller in comparison to what I was used to back in New York, and because it was late fall getting into winter, the grass which was usually more lush had a slightly brown tint to it, and there were the odd specs of white, a sign snow had already come.</p><p>"You from around here or passing' through?" My seat mate asked, and I found it odd that he spoke more words to me now than throughout the entire short flight. "Used to be, and no, I'll be hanging around for a little bit. Yourself?"</p><p>"Born and bred. Visiting my family for a while during the holidays. It ain't no New York, but I still got love for the D. It'll always be home, ya know?" I didn't, but I also didn't see much point in getting into that with him. "Sure," I smiled politely.</p><p>Not a few minutes later we touched down, and started the agonizingly long wait to edge toward the gate. As we waited for the gate to open, people started getting up impatiently, grabbing their bags. "We are now in Detroit, Michigan, where the temperature is 28 degrees Fahrenheit, and the time is 3:45 PM. If this is your final destination, you will be making your way to Baggage claim D4. For those connecting to another flight, you will want to check the flight board to your immediate right as you exit." </p><p>Someone stood up to ask about their connecting flight to California and I watched on longingly. A trip to warm and sandy beaches where I knew no one and nobody knew me sounded lovely right about now, but as difficult as tomorrow would be, I knew if I didn't come out I'd end up regretting it.</p><p>Our row started moving and I scrambled to catch up, pulling out my small carry on rolling suitcase from the compartment above and threw my large handbag over my shoulder as I followed behind. The cheery stewardess was smiling widely with another member of the flight crew at the open doorway. "Enjoy your stay, Miss, and thank you for traveling with us!"</p><p>I gave a pinched smile and a nod, not slowing down for a second.</p><p>I was thankful I decided to opt for no checked bags, as I was able to quickly bypass baggage claim and make it out to the exit before the rest of the passengers. There was only one person standing in line waiting on a taxi, and I sidled up. Mohammed, my taxi driver, made quick work of picking up my bags and stowing them into the trunk, and after reciting the address, we were off. </p><p>With some Arab music playing on low, and the driver navigating the city with an ease that spoke of many years on the job, I took the time to think about what I'd been avoiding since I heard the news. It was a little easier with several hundred miles between us, but being mere minutes away from where I grew up, it was hard to hold back the tears from welling up in my eyes as I could no longer deny what I'd wished was all a horrible nightmare and sick joke: one of my best friends from childhood was dead. DeShaun was gone, and he wasn't coming back. And what was worse -- I hadn't spoken to him in years, and it was all because of Marshall. Because we had a falling out, I couldn't take keeping in touch with anything that belonged to my old life, and DeShaun, the person who introduced us, who was by his side always, who stuck up for him by keeping me in the dark when he... </p><p>I shook my head. I wouldn't go there, couldn't unpack that now, when I was barely holding myself together as it was. </p><p>The car came to an abrupt stop, and I realized with blurry vision that we had arrived at the hotel. Well, if you could call it that. It was more of a motel, one of many shitty ones along mile road that I remembered all too well from when I spent every last dollar I had trying to get a room away from my step-dad and mom when she wasn't around, but it was predictably cheap. </p><p>The driver gave me a look when he glanced at the establishment, and I knew he was wondering why the hell I'd come all this way out to stay in a place like this, but he must've thought better of it because he handed me my bags and accepted my tip without another word. It was just in time too, as a slight drizzle commenced in the darkening sky. </p><p>The vinyl and cheap shag rug with questionable stains greeted me like a long forgotten home, and I approached the counter where a middle-aged woman was hunched over picking at her poorly done acrylics. "Hi, I'm looking for a single for a couple nights. Name's Maya Arnold." I flashed her my license, and she snatched it from my hands, gaze doing ping pong between me and the photo. I was honestly a little miffed; I doubted she gave most folks who were regulars here this much heat. </p><p>"Yeah, OK. Room 14's open, here's your key." The metal slid across the plastic countertop towards me, and I had to catch it before it fell onto the floor. I'm pretty sure if it had, I would just turn tail and walk out of here, chancing it on the streets than risk getting God knows what from their grimy floors. "Is that upstairs? Downstairs...?" I asked.</p><p>She gave me a blank stare, munching on her chewing gum. "It's all one floor, hun. 14's at the end of the hall on the other side. Only accessible from outside." Of course. </p><p>"Great, thanks." I said, turning back around. </p><p>"Mhm," she hummed as dismissal, returning her attention to her nails. </p><p>I was soaked by the time I trudged into my room, and was cursing not so quietly to myself as I attempted to unlock the door, dropping the key several times in my wet hands. "This day just keeps getting better and better..." I never thought I'd feel so relieved to be in this shitty motel, but I was lucking forward to getting warm and clean after a long day, and an early night's rest. I was hungry, but not enough to pick something up. The small couple of bags of pretzels and nuts from the flight would have to do. I could always get a big breakfast tomorrow morning, see if Mike's still served it's classic mouthwatering eggs, bacon and hash browns. </p><p>Wrapped up in my own tools and bathrobe, my feet in flip flops the entire time (even the bath was not safe), I pulled out a sleeping bag and laid it on the queen-sized bed, turning on the TV. Some mindless television would do just the trick. I still needed it on low volume to get to sleep even after all these years. </p><p>As I opened my bag of nuts and popped some cashews in my mouth, I settled on MTV. 'Pimp My Ride' was playing, and it put me at ease, even gave me a chuckle now and then to see what ridiculousness they'd come out with for their client. A few of the cars I could even see the old crew wanting. Hell, they might even have it now for all I knew, what with them making it big. That brought my mind back to DeShaun and had me tearing up all over again, except this time it was big ugly cries now that I was all alone. For the first time in a long time, I cried myself to sleep.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Morning rolled around and I looked an absolute train wreck. Black might be the occasion today, but I was pretty sure it didn't include raccoon eyes. I dabbed at the smeared mascara and eyeliner for as long as I could with some make up remover and tap water, but after a certain point it wouldn't budge and I figured I could hide it with enough concealer and foundation anyhow. It made me look a little washed out, even with my tanned skin tone, but who did I have to impress anyway? The last thing I or anyone else would be thinking about on a day like today is appearance. I spritzed on some perfume, combed my hair out into a tight bun, and tugged on my plain black dress which was sleeveless with a scooped neck and stopped just above the knee. I wore nude stockings under it, added a shawl, and low jet black heels and a matching dark clutch. With a final look in the streaked mirror, I gave myself a pep talk. "You can do this, it's just one day. No, a few hours. Then you can be on your way never looking back." It rang hollow, though, as I pictured his beautiful smile, his goofy personality and the inescapable thought ran through me faster than I could catch it:</p><p>I'd never be the same again. Logically, I knew I'd get better in time, it would hurt a little less each day, but his premature death would forever leave a stain on my heart. </p><p>I felt this itch of something crawling inside of me, and it persisted throughout the day. I felt frozen, I felt numb. I was just floating; there, but not really. It was like an out of body experience, but I couldn't concentrate on it enough to recognize what was happening. Somehow, it wound up being close to two, and I called up another taxi to take me to the church. An older fellow this time, he asked me if I wanted him to come back but I said that wasn't necessary; supposedly, we would all be carpooling back to DeShaun's mother's house for the reception, at which point later we would be going our separate ways, but I couldn't say how long that would be. </p><p>The bells tolled loudly in what seemed to be infinite silence. It was a somewhat sparsely littered part of town, but it was a gorgeous day for late November -- I'd have expected more families to be out, more kids to be running around the park nearby. Instead, it was like time slowed, surreal-like, a dream. Then it suddenly sped up as I registered someone brushing my arm. </p><p>"Maya?" A quiet, feminine voice gasped. "Maya, is that-is that you?" </p><p>I glanced up to see the second most person I'd been dreading seeing again, DeShaun's mother, "Pepper" as she was known. I was surprised she was so put together, I saw firsthand how close of a bond they had; I heard he'd travelled back to see her every chance he got from touring with Marshall. "Yes," I answered shakily, smiling with effort (although I think it was more of a grimace). "You look, um... good." I settled on. </p><p>She gave me one of her motherly smiles, her eyes shining with unshed tears as she pulled me into a hug. "Come here, child." I froze at first, then relaxed. I hadn't realized how much I needed it, and needed her presence in my life again. She was more of a mother than my own, just as she was for Marshall growing up, too. "Thank you," I said, stupidly, full of emotion. "You know full well you don't gotta thank me, baby. I'm over the moon you decided to come back. It means the world to me, and I know it DeShaun's looking down on us smilin' seeing' us together," she looks at me sadly. I was never a big believer in God, didn't see how someone like Him could exist with all the shit in this world, all the fucked up things Marshall and I and countless others had to deal with; none of it was fair. But for her on this day, I would put almost anything aside. "He is," I agreed, grasping the juncture where her bicep met her elbow firmly. I offered my arm to her, nodding at the cathedral's entrance. "Shall we?" </p><p>I ended up sitting next to her, and it was a tight fit because everyone corralled around her to support her baby boy's passing. I felt a little out of place, like maybe I should be in the far back; we'd been very close at one point, but it had been years of near no communication after all, while many others stayed true to her, never forgetting their roots. I certainly wouldn't blame her for doing so, but she wouldn't have it. "You're right where you should be, baby, now sit." She said insistently, and I did as instructed, feeling grateful albeit not any less of a fraud.</p><p>As we waited for the procession to begin, I took the time to look around, which was mostly behind me, as Pepper and her crew sat at the front of the church. The first person I noticed was, of course, him. Marshall Mathers, although at this point I was more familiar with his stage name Eminem, or Slim Shady. He looked a lot like he had when I knew him, casually dressed, hard faced. You wouldn't know he had millions in the bank. The only things that looked different was the short, peroxide bleached blond hair, and his eyes. They were that beautiful wolf's blue as always, but they were muddy, off in some way. But of course he would be, he lost his best friend. Really, he was doing remarkably well considering. Some movement caught my eye and I finally noticed the familiar head of blonde hair, tall and thin frame sitting next to him. It was Kim, had to be. But I thought I saw something in the news about them splitting? The thought left as quickly as it came; it really wasn't any of my business. </p><p>I glanced around for any other familiar faces, landing on several members of the what the world knew as the 'D12' group, but I knew as the neighborhood kids: Denaun, Rufus, and Von. Another dark-skinned man was with them, fairly tall, and muscular, sitting next to a model-looking woman. When his head swiveled my way, I nearly stopped breathing. It was Dr. Dre. The Dre. Wow, never would I have thought I'd see someone so famous in person, but then being away throughout their rise to fame, I never stopped seeing them as just some boys foolin' around talented though they were. Someone stepped up to the podium and was messing with the mic; I think it was DeShaun's uncle, I'd met him once at a dinner years back. When his voice came through clear, a hush fell over the room.</p><p>"Good Morning all, my name is Jeremiah. Some of you may know me as DeShaun's uncle. I wanna thank y'all for takin' the time out today. I know you all lead some pretty crazy lives now, I know my nephew was proud to be a part of it while he could... We wanted to keep today simple, my sister and I," he gestured toward Pepper, bringing with it a few eyes from the crowd our way. Maybe it was my hallucination, but I felt a burning gaze on the back of my neck that had the hair raising and I wanted to say it belonged to Marshall, but I couldn't be sure unless I turned around and there was no way in hell I'd do that. </p><p>"We'll have our service, and then Marshall will come up to do the eulogy, followed by Pepper. It's not the strictest schedule, so feel free to come up to say a few words." He stepped down, and the music flowed from the organ as we all rose to sing the first few verses of 'Lamb of God'. I shared my Bible with Pepper, as there weren't enough to go around for everyone to have their own. Her voice was as stunning as ever, though it was clear she was struggling to keep a clear tone. Towards the end of the first verse, right after 'have mercy upon us...' two familiar voices some pews behind started arguing in hushed whispers. It angered me that they thought here and now, on all occasions, was the right time to get into it. I would've said something, too, but it would only cause more of a disruption and Pepper and Jeremiah didn't need to deal with that today. </p><p>"Please seat yourselves," the Priest, Father Jacob, instructed in a deep voice that reverberated around the room. "And turn to page 46 as we read Matthew, 5:4. Blessed are those that mourn, for they shall be comforted..." He intoned. I listened raptly for once, taking in His comforting words. I never took much stock in them before, rarely stepped foot inside church matter of fact, unless I was staying over at DeShaun's and Pepper forced us all to go if we made the poor decision to sleepover on a Saturday night. But today was different. Perhaps it was because I was desperate for any way to console myself, but I believed in a higher being that day, and whether one truly existed or not, it didn't matter in that moment. </p><p>After Communion and prayer, Father Jacob stepped aside to allow our first speaker. I stared ahead, not joining in with others' as they glanced back to watch Marshall make the trek to the podium, but I found myself looking for a very long time. "What's going on? Isn't Marshall going up?" I asked Pepper after she returned to her seat beside me. Her mouth was set in a grim line, her eyes steely. "He's not going to. Not in a...condition, to do so. I'd go up myself but I'm afraid it's more than I can handle today." She turned to me with vague hope in her tired gaze. "Would you...?" </p><p>"Yes," I said, standing. "Of course." Never mind that I didn't have anything prepared, I could speak from the heart. I wouldn't be expected to speak for a good length of time last minute as it was. It would be fine. I went to maneuver myself out from the pew when Pepper stopped me. "Hold on, I've got a little something prepared for what you could say if you can't think of anything. It was Marshall's." My eyebrows raised. I accepted it tentatively. "Thank you," she said gratefully. </p><p>I made the walk to the podium with slow steps, feeling like if I went any faster I might trip and fall; I felt unsteady, weak, and that was not a good thing to be feeling when you were wearing heels, short or not. I looked over the audience, feeling a little dry-mouthed having everyones scrutinizing gaze on me. Pulling out Marshall's messily written speech, I began to read.</p>
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